


Triangleween

by gold_pen_leaps



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Halloween, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Indirect Communication, Lack of Communication, Not Beta Read, Other, Story within a Story, Summer, Unreliable Narrator, maybe even the following tag applies. but personally I think it's a small amount, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_pen_leaps/pseuds/gold_pen_leaps
Summary: “The people upstairs aren’t the only ones who prepare ahead for Summerween,” Bill said. “The whole town does. And I’ve been planning for this day for an entire year.”
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Kudos: 17





	1. At This Point, I'm Too Afraid To Ask

**Author's Note:**

> ~~This WIP might have three chapters.~~ Edit (July 1):Yay, I reached three chapters!   
> Everything makes sense if you read this as a standalone, but I'm getting strong [Anniversary of Something](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745531) vibes. As of writing, [An Array of Somethings](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794808) is not complete, but it will also help you get a sense for why Bill and Ford's dynamic feels the way it does. In short, this fic is OOC for canon, but plausible-ish for this fluffy AU I seem to have spawned. "Ish" because this one's quite cracky.
> 
> Me: I should come up with a delightful, poetic title.  
> Also me: triangleween, lol :3
> 
> Comments are cherished and appreciated. Enjoy.

Dipper had assured Ford that Summerween preparations always took up the whole day, if not longer. Ford didn’t entirely understand the fuss.

“It’s okay, dawg,” Soos had said, reassuringly, “As long as I eat the rest of the candy, we’re safe from your lack of holiday spirit.” Whatever that meant. Even Bill had agreed with that statement, and Ford didn’t want to look like he was out of the loop in front of everyone.

He had spent most of the day putting up the party decorations with his niece and nephew. He’d been informed that teenagers went to parties, and didn’t do trick or treating. Soos was “setting up the post-party movie space”. Stan was supposed to be putting up party fliers. Ford hoped that was going well, because the Shack had an eerie stillness to it, despite the bright presence of Dipper and Mabel, and the occasional snippet of conversation that Ford heard from Soos talking to his abuelita or Melody.

It was an ominously calm and pleasant day, especially since so many people were living at the Mystery Shack.

He knew what element was missing, but he was trying not to think about that.

In the afternoon, just as the party decorations were practically perfect according to Mabel’s exacting standards, the back door opened and they heard two arguing voices. Yep, there was the missing element.

“-making money, Old Fez, so there’s no reason-”

“-for a second that I’m going to make a deal with _you,_ then...”

Bill cut himself off the second the twins and Ford came into the room. He was yellow, and there were no flames, Ford noted. No reason to panic. Yet.

Stan trailed off.

“For the record, it _wouldn’t_ be a deal,” Bill told their audience.

“Oh bull _honkey_ , all you ever do is try to convince people to-”

“I haven’t made a deal since-”

And they were at it again.

Mabel, Dipper, and Ford exchanged glances.

“Grunkle Stan, can we talk a minute?” Dipper said and pulled him away. They went upstairs.

“I’ll be back, Cipher!” Stan shouted as he left.

Ford angled himself so his back faced the stairs and looked at Bill. “What’s going on?” he said quietly.

“Don’t think I don’t notice the team-up thing you three just pulled,” Bill said, jabbing Ford’s chest with a finger.

“We just want everyone to get along!” Mabel said.

Bill stared at her.

“Tolerate each other somewhat?” Ford offered.

Bill huffed and crossed his arms. “Well, I guess we do, it’s just that _he_ doesn’t know a good business opportunity when he hears about one.”

“We’re talking about Grunkle Stan, right?” Mabel said.

Soos came into the room. “Everything okay here, dudes? I heard shouting.”

Bill saw Soos and perked up. “Man of Mystery Numero Dos! What’s your opinion on triangular candy?”

“Triangular candy? Everyone knows that candy corn is the staple crop of Summerween. Best triangular candy there is.”

Bill gasped. “You take that back!”

“I don’t mean to offend. It’s just that it’s the _only_ triangular candy-”

Bill gasped again. “The only…? How- I...” He put his hands over his sides.“I won’t hear any more of this! La lala lalalalala!” He zoomed away.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, and finger-gunned, “Mabel’s got this.” She went after him, leaving Ford and Soos in the foyer.

Soos pouted. “I like candy corn.”

Oh. “Well, there’s nothing offensive about liking… er, about having unconventional tastes?”

“It’s okay. We can be real about this. It’s loser candy.” Soos nodded solemnly. “And I will eat it all, for the good of Summerween.”

Right. He was probably talking about that thing that Ford was too afraid to ask about. “Great, great. I’m just gonna...” He gestured in the direction Bill and Mabel had gone and power-walked away.

Mabel was in the living room, rummaging through a duffel bag and muttering to herself.

“Where did Bill go?”

Mabel waved her hand. “Oh, he went away when I started explaining how candy corn’s not all that bad. You just gotta put glitter on it!” She paused and put her hands on her hips. “Huh. Have you seen my cookie cutters anywhere?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, no,” Ford said. “You could try the kitchen.”

“Good idea!”

Ford went to the gift shop. Sure enough, he didn’t even have to punch in the code in the vending machine. He went inside and closed the door behind him. He’d been on this elevator so many times, it had lost the awkward feeling of waiting for nothing, like other elevators had. He just felt... mildly confused.

“There you are.”

Bill Cipher was perched on Project Mentem’s helmet, sulking. He didn’t respond to Ford, other than to glance at him.

Ford took off his coat, hung it up on the wall hook, and sat down on the military cot that he had set up down here. It was narrow, but just as firm as he liked it, considering what he had gotten used to during his travels. And this room was quieter than any other room in the house. He patted the pillow beside him. “Tell me a story, won’t you?”

“Hmph.”

“Doesn’t even have to be an entirely truthful one,” he coaxed.

There was a silence. Ford didn’t lift his hand from the pillow. He could be patient.

Eventually, Bill floated over and rested against the pillow. Ford unfolded a blanket that was at the foot of the cot, took off his boots, and got comfy. Bill ran his fingers idly along the seam of the pillowcase, gaze wandering about the room, anywhere but at the human beside him, and giving off the air that he _wasn’t_ waiting for Ford to get settled.

It didn’t take long, so Bill began.

“The people upstairs aren’t the only ones who prepare ahead for Summerween,” Bill said. “The whole town does. And I’ve been planning for this day for an entire year.” He paused, dramatically, and glanced up at Ford. He said nothing, and nodded. _Go on; I’m listening._ “This is the story of how Bill Cipher Day would have replaced Summerween...”


	2. Triangular Candies

This is the story of the inaugural Bill Cipher Day. 

Summerween, despite it’s reputation for candy, trick-or-treating, and spookiness, is actually a holiday dedicated to evil, pure evil. Well, I say, evil is passe! Evil is sooo two thousand and thirteen that it’s left me two thousand and hurting! Ha! Oh, come on, you think that one’s funny.  
Anyway, Summerween needs to be replaced with a holiday that represents chaos and weirdness. The sad thing is, the townsfolk of Gravity Falls are too attached to their trick-or-treating to switch to other rituals without feeling, at the very least, mild withdrawal symptoms. The good news is, pranking is in line with evil and chaotic weirdness, so the transition to Bill Cipher Day won’t be too jarring. The first Bill Cipher Day will be quite familiar and relaxing for Gravity Falls. It’s a flawless plan, really. It’ll go down thusly:

As the first jack-o-lanterns are being lit, Bill Cipher’s elite pranking squad will descend upon the town. The team consists of Soos, Stan, Ford, and the young twins. All led by Bill. They only need to set a few key pieces in motion, and the rest will take care of itself.

“Why are we at Manly Dan’s house? I still don’t get it,” says Soos. He parks the van so that it hides behind some trees.  
"Because Manly Dan is about to get pancaked! Ahahahaha!" Bill says.

Don’t give me that look! Third person is reasonable! You asked for this!  
Ahem.

“He’s gonna get pancaked!”  
“And not in the makeup way!” Mabel says.  
Mabel and Bill high-five. Bill checks that everything in the van is where it needs to be, then asks aloud, just to be sure.  
“Mabel, is the griddle ready?”  
“Yep!”  
“Dipper, the pancake mix?”  
“Check.”  
“Roll out, team.”  
Soos does a barrel roll. Everyone else sneaks towards the house on human legs, or via floating, the superior ambulatory method.  
The Portable Pancake-O-Matic that Ford had improved quickly provides their arsenal. They fling pancakes at the house. Some of them make a satisfying splat when they hit the roof. The rest slide down the walls.  
Soon enough, the team hears voices from within the house. “Who’s there?” “Maybe it’s the pigeons again, Dad.”  
“Quick! Hide yourselves! Soos, get over here. And don’t touch anything.” Thankfully, there aren’t any talking skulls around, and the team gets out of view just as Manly Dan, followed by his family, tumble out of the door. All according to plan.  
“What will Wendy think?” Dipper whispers, with dawning horror.  
Mabel pats his back. “It’s okay. She likes pancakes.”  
“We’ve been pranked!” Manly Dan shouts, upon seeing the pancakes that cover the roof of his house and the surrounding ground. He ruffles his own hair in frustration.  
Wendy places her hand on her chin. “This is weird, man. Usually, I’d think it was my friends, but they always use eggs. Gotta stick to the classics.”   
One of Wendy’s brothers eats a piece of pancake. “My favorite!”  
“Your favorite? But your only favorite pancakes are...” Manly Dan says. He tries a piece himself. “These pancakes!” Manly Dan roars, “I’d recognize this recipe anywhere!”  
“Who is it, Dad? Who pranked us?”  
“Lazy. Susan,” he growls.  
The Corduroys gasp.  
“No one outpranks the Corduroys, Lazy Susan. No one!” Manly Dan roars. “Children! Get the netting and put on your camo!”  
They set off in the direction of Lazy Susan’s house.

“...How’d you fool them into thinking it was Susan’s recipe?” Stan wonders once they’re out of hearing range.  
“Oh, you Pines.” Bill shakes his head. “All you can cook are microwave dinners, campfire food, and witchy potions. You wouldn’t be able to trick an innocent restaurant owner into giving away her secret recipe.”  
“What’s next, oh devious and clever leader?” Soos asks.  
Mabel doesn’t even look offended by the cooking comment, but Stanley is muttering angrily to himself about microwaves to himself and anyone who happens to overhear.  
Bill rubs his hands together. “This is just the beginning. Soon, the whole town will be embroiled in a full-out prank war! Who’s ready to replace the pool supplies with replicas made of honey and birdseed for woodpeckers?”  
Mabel gasps. “So the statues we made together didn’t go missing after all!”  
“Yes,” Bill says, “They shouldn’t be confined to a hideous tourist showroom.”  
“Rude,” Stan grumbles.

Bill surveys the chaos and weirdness that has spread across Gravity Falls. And, this time, it took a lot less effort.  
A band of manotaurs gallops past Bill and the team’s alley hideout. “At this rate, we will be pranking each other forever,” one roars.  
“No way,” says Multi-bear, “I’ll end this, and be the best prankster this Summerween!”  
“Get ‘em! Get ‘em!”

“This is the moment,” Bill tells his squad. He steps out onto the street and snaps his fingers. “Hit the lights.”  
The spotlights turn on, and Bill enlarges to a giant version of himself, towering over the town. “Did someone ask for a mediator to settle this war once and for all?”  
Dipper nudged Mabel. “Is he doing what I…?”  
“Shh! I’m trying to listen.”  
There’s a lot of fuss and confusion from everyone over the fact that Bill has appeared, but he talks over their boos and terrified screaming. “In order to gain the title of the Unblanching Winner Ultimate, you’ll have to pass my trials.”  
This catches their interest.  
“Oh snap. I’m gonna be the unblanchiest!”  
“I have no idea what blanching means, but I want to be a winner!”  
There was a chorus of agreement from the townspeople.  
“Challenge accepted, horrible triangle creature!”  
“Minus 50 unblanching points, just for that comment!” Bill says.  
“Oh nooo, my unblanching points!”  
Ford marks down the current scores in chalk on the pavement.  
“The first challenge,” Bill says, “Is to carve my likeness into a watermelon. Whoever carves the most pleasing replica of me passes the first test.”

It goes well. Everyone loves playing charades. Pin the eye on the triangle is vaguely unsettling, but not so bad if you’re the one trying to place the eye, and there are many jack-o-melons with eyed triangles gracing their exterior, perfect for spying on everyone.  
It goes well, that is, until the candy challenge.

“And for my next trick!” Bill proclaims with a flourish, taking off his hat and pretending to take something out of it. Bill pops a glass jar into this plane of existence using a simple spell and holds it out, tiny against his gargantuan hand, so that everyone can see. “Guess how many candies are in this magical physics-defying candy jar.”  
“Magic, you say? I don’t trust magic.”  
“This must be some kind of trick! He said so!”  
Bill scoffs. “It’s not a trick!”  
“What if you shrink it and make it have less candies?”  
Ford adjusts his glasses. “Scientifically, that’s not how that works. Right, Dipper?”  
“Well,” Dipper says thoughtfully, “What if the magic alters the amount of space somehow?”  
Ford groans. “Dipper, why.”  
“I’m just saying!”

The townsfolk weren’t happy to hear that. “What if he shrinks and enlarges it at random?”  
“That sounds like something he’d do!”  
“Yeah, he’s evil!”  
“He decaffeinated my coffee one time!”  
“That’s it,” says Sheriff Blubbs, “This was a fun party, but now we gotta arrest you. Durland and I have no chance of winning, at this rate.”  
“Bill Cipher,” says Deputy Durland, “You are under arrest, on the charges of misleading the public and decaffeination!”  
Bill laughs and spreads his arms wide. “Just try it, tiny flesh specks! It won’t work!”  
“Golly, even if I turned on this light?” Everyone’s gaze turns, in horror and hope, towards Gideon, who has somehow managed to slip past Soos’ hawk-like guard, and has his hand over the spotlight switch.  
Mabel lunges for the switch, but it’s too late. “Gideon, no!”  
“I’m still immune to your charms!” Gideon shrieks. He turns the crystal, flips the light on, and shrinks Bill Cipher down.

“The tiny handcuffs, dear Deputy.”  
“How does it feel, Bill?” Gideon says. He does a cutesy victory dance. “How does it feel?”  
“You should arrest them, too,” Bill says, gesturing with both hands at his elite team, “They’re my accomplices, and they’re dangerous. Watch out for the ugly old man – no, that’s the cute one, you dummies – he always tries to make a run for it.”  
“Bill! You little snitch!” Stan snarls.  
Ford shrugs. “Eh. What’s Earth jail compared to where I’ve been imprisoned?”  
“We invoke Globnar!” says Mabel. “Right, Dipper?”  
“They don’t have that law,” Bill tells her, “I looked it up.”  
“Aww.”

The drive to jail isn’t so bad, especially since Blubbs and Durland are happy to answer Mabel’s incessant questions about what it’s like being small town cops. But Dipper has a minor breakdown when they’re in the cell together, poor kid. “I’ve never been in jail,” Dipper sobs, like a crybaby. He’s so pitiful that even Bill, who largely regards him as a loveable nuisance, feels sorry for him.  
“I have,” Stanley proclaims, striking a confident pose, “I’ll teach you everything I know. We just need something to trade with our fellow inmates.”  
Ford nods. “But what? They confiscated the Pancake-O-Matic.”  
“How about twenty thousand and twenty pieces of candy, all shaped like triangles?” Bill says.  
Stan gasps. “That will work perfectly!”  
“That’s because I’ve planned for this a year beforehand,” Bill says. ‘Betcha regret not taking my suggestion to start a candy company!”  
“I envy how prepared you are,” Dipper says through his tears. “At this rate, we’ll be out of here before I can try to upstage you!”  
Ford is practically swooning, he’s so overcome by how cool Bill is. “Float into my arms so I can smooch you incessantly, you equiangular genius you!”  
Bill flutters his eyelashes. “Don’t mind if I do!”


	3. Your Liaison

“...And that’s how the first Bill Cipher Day will be celebrated,” Bill said. “I just needed those triangular candies.” He sighed, and then floated off of the pillow. “Maybe another year.”

Ford sat there, in stunned silence. His thoughts were compelled to spin outwards across multiple paths at once, and the human brain simply did not have the ability to multitask to that level. Where would he begin? Several events were gaining a context he could never had imagined: the morning Ford had made breakfast for everyone, the day Mabel and Bill had a crafts day together, that time Bill had insisted that Ford sneak him into Greasy’s so that Bill could feel included, Mabel looking for cookie cutters… No, wait, he was approaching this all wrong. Ford held his hands to his temples. It doesn’t matter if the details are true or not. He needed to look at the big picture.

“You alright there, Fordsy? Got a headache? I always thought that metal plate would impede blood flow.”

Ford lowered his hands and sat up straight. “I’m… fine?”

“Is that a question?”

“I’m fine,” he said, more confidently. He looked at Bill. Bill seemed to be over his sulk. He was   
floating, not resting on something, and his movements were energetic.

“I’m bored,” Bill said, “Don’t go to sleep now. I’d even play DDnMD right now.”

“I wasn’t about to sleep,” Ford said. He put on his boots again. “Actually… Hmm...” He paused to think, then said slowly, “I was thinking we could go to the party tonight.”

“I’m terrible at parties; you know this,” said Bill. 

“Only if you’re hosting them.”

“Only if you’re the party furniture,” Bill snapped.

Ford laughed, unable to help himself. Bill’s eye widened in surprise, then he bowed, sweeping off his hat, then putting it on again.

Ford wiped tears out of the corners of his eyes. “Just a quick appearance,” he said, “There’s that balcony that overlooks the dance floor. You’d enjoy startling whoever glances up, wouldn’t you?”

Bill pretended to be looking at something on his (nonexistent) fingernails. “Perhaps I would. Or not.”

“I bet you’d be great at helping me rig the party games in my favor,” Ford continued, “Well, the games might be boring teen stuff. Nix that. We could conduct a snack heist? And then prank everyone?”

“Mr. Pines!” Bill feigned horror. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“We could switch the labels on tonight’s horror movie,” Ford said, gaining steam, “with Stan’s secret copy of The Duchess Approves.”

“Now you’re talking,” Bill said.

“Heck,” Ford said, “I hear the Hand Witch and her husband throws some kinda bash around this time? No kids allowed.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Bill was so delighted, he practically sparkled.

“Well...” How to phrase this delicately? “When everyone in town is partying, it only makes sense to join in the fun, right? And...” He looked down at his hands, and realized he had been fidgeting. He stilled himself. “You’re the life of the party. I couldn’t do this without you.”

...Oh dear. Those words were more passionate aloud than in his head. But he didn’t amend them. The basic idea was true.

He looked up. Bill came closer. “Stanford Pines,” Bill said, “Are you telling me that you’ve been feeling lonely?”

Oh, Bill. Ford couldn’t help his wry smile. For someone so vain, he could be remarkably oblivious. “Well, I feel out of the loop, sometimes.” That wasn’t even a lie. “It’s not the same Gravity Falls it was, and you can’t know a town unless you get to know it’s people.” And now for the clincher. “If only I had some sort of tour guide, who could introduce or re-introduce me to everyone. Someone who’s seen all of the town.”

Bill’s eye narrowed in suspicion. Oops.

“Laying it on a little thick,” Bill said, “I don’t know what your motive is, IQ, but sure. I can be that person. Your tour guide. Your liaison.” He winked.

Ford breathed outwards, and then laughed, suddenly feeling light. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bill said, “So, where to start: snacks or movies?”

“You decide,” Ford said, “I can come up with the ideas, but the chaotic execution of said ideas are your expertise.”


End file.
